


The Path That Leads Astray

by Greed Sennen (GreedSennen)



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Amputation, Angst and Feels, Angst and Humor, Bad Parenting, Blood and Injury, Blood and Violence, Canon-Typical Violence, Character Death, Comfort/Angst, Dammit Solas, Dark Lavellan, Death, Dragon Age: Inquisition Spoilers, Drunk Inquisitor, Elvhen Language, Established Relationship, Fantastic Racism, Feels, Fix-It of Sorts, Flirting, Gay Male Character, Grief/Mourning, Helpful Cole (Dragon Age), Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Inquisitor Backstory, Lavellan Backstory, M/M, Major Character(s), Nightmares, Original Character Death(s), Partial Nudity, Past Relationship(s), Post-Dragon Age: Inquisition, Pre-Dragon Age: Inquisition, Pre-Relationship, Slow Burn, Swearing, Trespasser DLC
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-30
Updated: 2017-07-16
Packaged: 2018-11-21 08:44:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 16,523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11353920
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GreedSennen/pseuds/Greed%20Sennen
Summary: Sahren Lavellan was by no means what his name implied in his language. He was not a leader by nature, with enough bad judgement to try the patience of the Creators themselves. As a leader, he would do nothing but lead himself astray, and anyone who dared to follow.And yet, by design or coincidence, he was forced to live up to his name, and hope that the choices he will have to make won’t kill the people he cares about.Creators help them all.





	1. Burn

**Author's Note:**

> While I admit I have written one story for my Lavellan in the past, I was somewhat unhappy with it. There were bits and pieces that didn't stick, like my Lavellan's previous name.
> 
> So I'm rewriting it. This will start from Lavellan's backstory, go to possibly the trip to the Conclave, and plenty of things that happen after, and my Lavellan's feelings about them. It may even include some twists into the story that I wish happened in the game.
> 
> Note, that in the beginning, my Lavellan is in a established relationship. But he'll be with Dorian by the end. Hope you enjoy reading.

Starlight illuminated the forest floor, casting patterned shafts of silver light through high branches. A lone stag nosed at the ground, scattering leaves to get at the tender grass underneath. It was relaxed, as this deep in the forest it felt safe for now, but it was unaware that it was watched by eyes as green as the forest itself. It did not notice the predator lurking in the shadows of the branches above, as it does not remember ever being hunted from within the trees themselves.

Sahren carefully aimed his bow, arrow shaft deftly held between his fingers. He notched the arrow against his bow soundlessly, confident in the oiled wood as he watched his quarry below. He had chosen Falon’din’s mark as his vallaslin, and with the release of his bow he would offer his prey’s soul to the Guide and it’s body to his clan, as he always did.

However, something had caught the stag’s attention, and it lifted it’s head. Wanting to catch it before it decided to bolt, Sahren released his arrow just a little too late, and startled, it ran off into the underbrush.

“ _Fenedhis_ , I almost had it.” Sahren hissed under his breath, and jumped to the forest floor, scattering leaves even more and deciding the hunt was forfeit by this point, spoiled by whatever had spooked the stag. With frustration he snatched his arrow from the ground, temper making him hold it a little too tightly. This was the last one for the night!

With a grumble, he turned to look in the direction his prey had, and heard a scream echo through the trees. The lack of any noise afterwards was just as deafening. Alarmed, he realized it was from his camp, and as he was already grieving the loss of his mother, he instantly feared the worst, blood turning to ice in his veins.

_No. Not again._ He was a hunter this time. No one would die this time if he could help it.

He took off instantly, darting between the trees with his heart hammering in his chest, breathing so rapidly he felt the burn of the night air in his throat. He could hear no birdsong as he ran, which unnerved him more, but it was not enough to prepare him for when he busted into the clearing, into camp.

Several of the aravels were burning, stinging his eyes with smoke, and scattered around were a few of the fallen, seasoned hunters laying in their own blood. A hand went reflexively over his mouth, and he swallowed harshly, forcing the bile back down his throat.

“No, no..” He mumbled from between his fingers, which shook. He was a hunter himself, but it was hard to be brave in the face of such death so soon on the heels of his mother’s loss.

But he forced himself to look at his surroundings, at the bodies. Most of the bodies were in fact not hunters of his clan, but humans, and the few of their own that lay dead were not ones he recognized by name. The fear he felt swiftly turned into rage, as he realized the humans were wearing armor from Tevinter, and were not bandits, but slavers. 

_This was what they were rewarded for being nice to humans?_ He knew how bad camping so close to the edge of the Free Marches was, but his father had kept him from arguing with the Keeper over it.

It was his father’s fault that they were in this area, and the thought that this ambush could have been avoided made his blood boil.

Someone shouted his name from somewhere nearby, snapping him out of his raging thoughts and back into the present. He was quick to realize it was Feladara, the Keeper’s First, as green met amber. 

Feladara was channeling magic gently over Azni, a clan elder who normally took care of the clan’s few children while their parents were hunting. Her breathing was labored, unconscious but still alive as the mage stabilized her with surprising skill.

“‘Dara! Thank the Creators you're alright!” Sahren shouted back, as he ran quickly to his side, and kneeled next to them to pull Feladara into a strong embrace.

It was quickly returned, and the mage dug his fingers into Sahren’s raven feathered hair to kiss him briefly. There was a bit of happiness in his eyes, but anger there too, as he felt the same as Sahren in this. “I can say the same myself, Sahren. I was worried.” He said with a sigh, pulling away.

“What happened to the camp?” Sahren asked, tightening his grip on his bow, and Feladara’s expression hardened in response to the question.

“Most of our hunters were out, as you were. The ones that were here died, and the slavers tried to take the children, but your father made them take him instead.” Feladara explained, and grasping his staff tightly, he got to his feet, sparing a glance at Azni before returning his attention to Sahren. “A few others were wounded as well, but the Keeper has them. We should go save your father.”

Sahren’s throat tightened, mixed thoughts fogging his brain. But he got to his feet with the other elf regardless. “What about Azni?” He asked despite himself. “And you’re a healer, ‘Dara, not usually a combat mage. Shouldn’t you stay with the Keeper?”

“She’s fine for now.” He replied, and shook his head, before giving a conspiratorial grin to his loving hunter. “You know better than anyone that I’m more than just a healer, and I won’t leave you alone in this. Plus, the Keeper will be fine, and most of the clan will already be with her. She knows Azni is here and will get her before she comes to harm.”

He twirled his staff, lightning flickering along the shaft of wood. Feladara looked less like a healer and more like a force of destruction. “Let’s go now, before they take your father over the border.”

_________________________________

 

It was quite easy to track the slavers, as some of them had bled like pigs in their escape, leaving the scent of blood to follow. And even without that, shems were clumsy, and there were quite a few of them, leaving a thick trail of crushed plants in their wake.

They could see the cage his father was held in, and he had been clearly disarmed, his arm broken and dangling at his side. He was growling at a few of the shem, who had decided to jab him with sticks through the bars. Most, however, were off to the side, tending to each other’s wounds and watching the forest warily, cursing and grumbling at each other in Tevene. 

Sahren narrowed his eyes at the barbaric scene, from within the shadows of the trees. Regardless of his personal disputes with his father, he would kill these stupid shems for doing any of this, especially treating his father like some animal. His temper starting to get to him, he went to rise, but the Feladara put a gentle hand on his shoulder. 

The mage’s voice was calm, in the same tone he always used that made Sahren think before he acted. “Think for a moment. There are only a few near your father, but without something drawing most of their attention, you would be overwhelmed quickly.”

Sahren let out a puff of frustrated breath, but tried to listen to Feladara before he did something stupid. “What do you suggest, then?”

“My magic is flashy, and can handle more targets than your bow and daggers are able.” He replied, glancing at the daggers at Sahren’s waist along with the bow before his amber eyes darted around the scene, plan quickly forming in his mind. “I will slow them down long enough so you only have those two to deal with and can free your father. Then, back me up as best you can.”

Sahren turned to Feladara, his own eyes wide. “Are you sure that is wise?” He asked, biting at his lip, his hand pressed over the one his lover had on his shoulder. “I don’t want to risk losing you in exchange for my father’s life. Blood has never mattered much to him, so why should I value your life over his?”

“It’s all we have for a plan at the moment, with only the two of us.” The mage reasoned, and he let out a strained sigh. He understood why Sahren disliked his father, but Feladara would not let him abandon the only blood he had left, even if the man disliked their relationship.

“Because he is a clan member, if nothing else. It would be wrong to leave him behind. And if we abandon him now, we lose the chance that someday, he might understand.” He gripped the hunter’s hand back and squeezed it, before letting go and gently but briefly stroking his lover’s face. “I will be fine, Sahren. I promise. Wait for me to get their attention.”

And then he pulled away, grasping his staff with confidence that Sahren wasn’t sure he had himself. Giving the hunter one last look, he disappeared behind another tree.

The yells started a second later, electricity shooting into the bigger crowd of humans. It didn’t hit any of them, but it was close enough that it startled the hell out of them and they jumped to their feet, clutching wounds and weapons both.“They got a damn mage!” One of the humans yelled, as Sahren attached his bow to his back.

Seeing that as his cue, the hunter rushed out of the brush and at the cage, a dagger in each hand. One of the two men left saw him, the other distracted by the commotion, but just as he opened his mouth to yell, Sahren knocked him out cold with a brutal bash of a dagger hilt. The man dropped to the ground, and Sahren turned to the next human, who had time to draw his weapon.

“You damn knife-ears are like rats!” He growled, and rushed at Sahren, brandishing a mace. A swing Sahren barely dodged nearly crushed his skull, his father’s shout saving him at the last second. He ducked, only to have the wind knocked out of him by a swift knee to his gut.

The human was over him in an instant, pressing his boot against Sahren’s back painfully. He sneered down at the elf. “Too bad, eh? You’re rather good looking and would fetch a nice price. Too feisty for labor, though there are other things-” 

Sahren’s dagger went right through the back of the man’s leg, severing the sinew and artery behind his knee and breaking the bone. The man screamed hideously, falling sideways, and the elf grimaced as blood spattered all over the side of his face and back. It was disgusting and it shook him on the inside, but he got to his feet, anger carrying him forward. He got to his feet uncomfortably and spat on the human as he bled to death, screams quickly quieting. “Die instead, you fucking shem. I’m taken and I won’t let a fucker like you think of me like that.” He hissed.

His father cleared his throat, bringing his son’s attention back to the present. “He’s got the key.” The older elf said under his breath, pointing through the bars.

Grimacing, Sahren realized what he had to do, and awkwardly stepped towards the dying man, pulling the keys off of the belt. However, when he lifted his head back up, he heard Feladara’s scream of pain and instantly threw the keys into the cage.

“Get yourself out!” He snapped before his father could protest, instantly running in the direction of the scream.

 

“Sahren, wait! Get back here!”

  
_______________________________


	2. Beautiful Yet Terrible

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Death is a force of nature in of itself.

In the time it had taken Sahren to dispatch two humans, Feladara had taken down at least four. But he had been cornered in a clearing between the trees by the survivors, the humans surrounding the mage like a circle of wolves.

Sharply inhaling, Sahren’s heart ached as he he heard the humans with perfect clarity, curses of “dirty knife-ear” and “wild beast” in mocking shouts and jeers. It told him that his Clan’s First wasn’t faring well, and when he got close enough to see his mage in the center, he froze at the terrible sight.

Feladara was kneeling in the center of the circle, auburn strands free of his braid and loose around his face, blood caked and matting his hair. His staff lay broken at his feet, one hand cradling his head, and the other, full of fire. His amber gaze was sharp, wild, and far from the calm and gentle personality Sahren loved.

Once, when they were young, Feladara had told him he hated fire magic. Burns were one of the most painful wounds, and so he hated the idea of using it on others. These humans were forcing a healer to wield fire, and that hurt deeply.

One of the more distinguishable humans dared a step closer, and a blaze flickered in warning. He grinned at the elf, his smile missing some teeth.  “I’m going to gut you like a fish, little elf.” He sneered, grasping his sword and pointing it at the mage. “Slavery’s too good for a beast like you.”

Feladara smiled at the human, not friendly but mocking. It was the smile of a cornered wolf, not a healer, and not the ones stolen away in happy moments with Sahren. “I’d love to see you try, serah. I’m far more bite than bark.”

The human’s cruel grin contorted, twisting into an ugly snarl, rage making the ‘vint's face purple. “I won’t just try, knife-ear.” He spat, and snapped his fingers. Another slaver stepped forward at the command, brandishing a club. Raising it high, ready to crush Feladara’s skull in mere moments.

A hint of fear flashed across Feladara’s face, making him falter, the blaze in his palm flaring in warning-

Whistling and cutting through the air, the human was struck in the neck with a sickening thud, an arrow lodged in his throat. He dropped his club, and made a weak thud before collapsing at the healer’s feet, dead as he hit the ground.

Feladara and the humans went white-faced, but before anyone could react two more humans were falling to the ground, arrows sprouting from their bodies before they caught on to the shooter.

Striding towards them with grim determination, Sahren released two more shots in rapid succession, felling more of their number. He was hunting wolves, but he knew they would bite back.

The ‘vint with the missing teeth began to bark orders, the healer forgotten in the chaos Sahren’s arrival wrought. One of the humans had a bow himself, and fired back, forcing the hunter to throw himself to the side to avoid a fatal blow. However, Sahren grunted in surprised pain as one managed to graze his shoulder, blood soaking through his sleeve quickly. 

He heard Feladara shout his name, and though it felt distant, Sahren kept going, getting to his feet. Regretfully, he tossed his bow to the side as he began to close in, but pulled out his daggers from his waist. His green eyes fluttered wildly, the black markings of his vallaslin stark against his pale face and making him look all the more feral.

Several of the humans faltered at the sight, unsettled by the ferocity and their shem minds became overridden with fear. But the leading ‘vint snapped at them angrily, and one human reluctantly obeyed, rushing the hunter with a yell.

His clan traded openly with humans, and Sahren grew up being taught the value of mercy. His patron was the Guide of the Dead, however, and after what these humans did to Feladara, to his father and clan?

_ They deserved no mercy. _

The human rushed at him, swinging blindly, and when one strike went too wide, Sahren took advantage of the opening. Spinning just out of reach, he then struck back, dagger biting into the soft flesh of the human’s throat, splattering an arch of crimson in it’s wake.

Another tried to flank him as his comrade died, aiming a strike at the hunter, only to have a swift kick break his ribs with a sickening crack. As he was knocked back, Sahren, high on adrenaline and rage, spun around and drove a dagger into the man’s skull through his eye. 

He yanked the blade out ruthlessly, in time to meet the next. Bloodlust and rage bubbled to the surface and Sahren laughed sharply, elvhen words on his tongue. “ _ Ma emma harel! _ ” He shouted, and though the humans didn’t understand, the meaning carried well enough.

Only one other human besides the leader remained, and he was already turning tail to run, terror overriding whatever loyalty he may have had, and he left his weapon behind.

The ‘vint cursed. “You fucking coward!” He snapped at the other human who abandoned him, and turned to Sahren warily.

The only warning the human had was a smirk from the hunter before he was rushed, knocked so hard against the dirt and grass that the breath rushed out of his lungs, and both their weapons scattered.

“You damn shems!” Sahren snapped, and angrily punched the human underneath him so hard his nose broke. “You won’t take  _ anyone _ from me again!”

Feladara grabbed the other elf’s wrist before he could deal another blow. Sahren froze, chest heaving with extersion, harsh breaths making his shoulder hurt. “It is over, ma’vhenan.” Gently pulling Sahren carefully off of the human, he murmured softly as though soothing a spooked halla. “I’m safe. There is no need to let rage take you any farther.” 

Sahren felt the haze of rage dwindle into shock, and he started shaking as reality hit him hard.  _ He had killed almost all of the shemlen by himself. And almost finished it. He had never killed for any other reason than food before. _ He realized, and felt nauseated. He didn’t understand where rage ended and fear began, his thoughts a messy spiral of emotion.

Feladara continued in that soothing tone, rubbing Sahren’s uninjured arm. “It’s okay, really-”

A twig snapped as the human scrambled to his feet, and if not for the noise Sahren would have given into the healer’s attempts to soothe him. No more did he tremble, his expression replaced by that of a predator as his attention snapped back to the human. As beautiful yet terrible as a wolf.

A growl rose dangerously in his throat, and the feral sound made the human warily step back. He looked scared, as he had seen what happened to his men, but he hated the two elves more than he feared them, rage smoldering in the human’s eyes. “You elves are all savages.” He spat at them, and Sahren’s anger bubbled to the surface again, ready to show the human just how savage he could get. 

But as he took a step towards the human, Feladara sighed tiredly and in exasperation. “Don’t let the human goad you into more bloodshed. We should let him go and return to the Keeper, as he can do nothing more to us without his men.”

Eyes widening in surprise, he turned to look at his lover, incredulous. Feladara was always the voice of reason between them, but now he ignored the soft amber eyes that pleaded with him to understand. “ _ Fenedhis.”  _ He cursed, and gave the healer a withering look. “Are you seriously asking me to  _ spare your tormentor?” _ Spitting at the ground to release his pent up frustration, he then added in a quieter tone, “‘Dara, do not ask this of me. Do not show mercy to a man who does not deserve your kindness.”

Feladara’s eyes seemed to water a bit, distraught that his lover would not listen. He opened his mouth again, a plea ready on his lips, but the human they temporarily forgot suddenly rushed them, sword in hand again. Without blinking, and ignoring the pain in his shoulder, Sahren spun and grabbed the human’s sword arm, disarming him and knocking him to the ground.

Sahren had gotten hold of one of his daggers somehow and now the blade was kissing the human’s throat. The human yelped and sputtered curses underneath him, but Sahren was used to hunting and was deceptively strong. The human could not escape. He looked up at Feladara. “Do you still not see what this human will do?”

“This trip has cost him much.” Feladara stated, and dragged a hand across his face, ignoring as he smeared blood and sweat on his cheeks, over his vallaslin. His shoulders were slumped and he wanted nothing more than for the two of them to go home. “He will not risk more men in another attack, and he will be disgraced, most likely, as he has no slaves. By the time he is able to, we will be gone.”

Sahren snorted disbelievingly. He was panting, wary from the fight, and had his shoulder not pained him so badly he would have laughed. “He wears our ironbark like a trophy.” He pointed out, and used the dagger to cut the elvhen amulet from the struggling human’s neck and he added in a mutter, “And he’s of Tevinter,” as if that was all the reason he needed.

“Killing him will not fix anything, either. Please, I don’t want any more blood on your hands tonight.” Feladara asked softly, hesitantly. His expression was gentle, if a bit pained, and despite himself, Sahren’s heart hurt as he remembered his lover’s injuries before his own. 

His resolve crumbling, he let go of the human, pushing him away roughly. “Dread Wolf take you, shem. Get out of here.” He hissed under his breath, but the relieved smile the healer gave him was worth it. 

The human scrambled away from them, to his feet. “Thanks, elf, I’m not too keen on dying tonight.”

The hunter snarled at him in warning. “Take your thanks and shove it up your Maker’s ass.”

“Yes, yes.” The human added distractedly. There was something in his hand, and Sahren registered too late it was the man’s discarded sword. “I want to thank you rabbits, first, with this!” The metal gleaned in the moonlight for a brief moment before it was thrown, coming at them with a sharp tearing of the air.

With a sickening thunk, it lodged into flesh and bone, blood spraying crimson onto the grass and the blade itself. Sahren’s eyes went as wide as an owl’s.

**“** **_No!”_ **


	3. Home is Lost to Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes, it's hard to live when you have no one to live for. Home is where the heart is, and yet, without a heart, can one ever find home again?

_No. No, no, no. This is not happening._ He thinks, as the blood on the grass continues to grow. _This is a dream. Another nightmare._ A soft little noise, barely a whisper, escapes Feladara’s throat as he looks at Sahren, a look of surprise across his features as the human turns to run.

“O-Oh.” One word, barely heard but said nonetheless, as Feladara fumbled with his hand, tried to grab at the hilt of the sword embedded in his chest, its point sticking out of his back. He couldn’t grab it, all strength leaving him, his body suddenly weak. His robes are quickly being dyed a dark red.

Someone screamed in agony, and when his throat burned Sahren realized it was himself who made the sound. So many emotions, it was a torrent. _Rage. Terror. Grief._ His eyes were manic, wild, with the pupils turned to slits, lost in green. For all the human knew, he might have just stomped on the tail of the Dread Wolf himself.

As his lover slid to the forest floor, Sahren gripped the hilt of his dagger with such force the wood groaned from the strain, and his hand bled as splinters dug into his skin. But Sahren couldn’t bring himself to care, and with deadly accuracy, singing vengeance and biting deep into the human’s spine, killing him instantly.

The human dropped like a stone, and the hunter grabbed Feladara before he completely crumpled, coming to the ground himself with the mage into his arms. One look, and Sahren knew the strike was fatal. Though it had missed the healer’s heart, it had punctured a lung clear through. Feladara lay dying in his arms, every breath he took a struggle to get air in his ruined lung. Blood bubbled on his lips and dripped down his chin, and he choked on it, coughing up more.

“ _S-Sahren_..” He gasped, trying to speak despite himself, and Sahren shushed him, cradling the healer’s head in his lap, running trembling fingers through auburn strands, worn by years with a bow, but still familiar.

“Hush, ‘Dara, please..” He mumbled, eyes glistening with the threat of tears. “I’m sorry I didn’t..”

“Not your fault..” Feladara mumbled, offering a weak smile. Sahren shook his head, ready to protest, but the words died in his throat. The healer took that as permission to continue. “D-Don’t ruin your life, for me. Find someone, to love. Don’t push away your father…” Coughing violently, he broke off, blood spattering on Sahren’s tunic. But the hunter paid it no mind. _There was a lot of blood on it already._

“I can’t promise that.” Sahren whispered.

“I know.” Feladara smiled at him, his gaze slowly drifting from his lover’s face to the night sky. Sahren looked up with him, noticing that despite the chaos of tonight, the stars were pretty in the Northern Free Marches.

“I-I love you, ma’vhenan.” The healer whispered back, and with it, he breathed his last, staring with sightless amber eyes. A tear dropped on his face from above his head, smeared with blood. A weak sob escaped Sahren’s throat.

“Dareth ’shiral, ma’nehn.” Sahren mumbled back, his words heard by no one, save the dead. More tears fell, and he really wished that time would stop.

__________________________

Two and a half years later, and yet, Sahren still hasn’t promised, as Feladara would have wished. The clan may have recovered, but he couldn’t. In fact, Feladara would be very unhappy to realize just how little the hunter cared at all, these days.

 _Creators take me._ He thought, as he sat in a tree, just outside of camp, on the same branch he hadn’t moved from since early this morning. He called it sentry duty, but sentries didn’t drink on the job.

Which was exactly what he was doing, nursing a bottle until it was at least late afternoon. He just knew, as the shadows were drawing in, that the Keeper would likely send someone to fetch him soon. The buzz of alcohol was nice, though, but for now, he eyed the little bit of amber liquid left in his bottle with his eyebrows furrowed as if in intense thought and a frown across his face.

“Are you drinking _again?”_ Someone asked suddenly from below the tree, tone clearly agitated.

No matter how impaired alcohol could make him, he would always recognize that voice. With a scoff, he refused to look at the intruder of his solitude, shaking his bottle experimentally as if it would magically form more in it, and watched the liquid slosh around. “I’m fairly sure I’m old enough to drink, and also too old for you to stop me.”

“As your father, Sahren, I only have your best interests in mind, regardless of how old you get.”

That comment was what finally got the hunter to look down. Aside from the clearly grey streaks in the hair of the elf below him, and the different vallaslin, they could have been mistaken for twins, with equally bright green eyes, and hair the color of raven feathers.

That, and they had _vastly_ differing opinions on how Sahren should live his life, and too much bad blood in their shared past to ever keep from arguing when together.

Sahren scowled down at his father, giving the older elf a scathing glare. “I hate it when you try to pretend you care.” He slid his free hand through his hair in distress, and then dug his fingers into the bark of the tree. “Both of their deaths were your fault, and I _still_ can’t forgive you.”

At that, his father flinched visibly. Guilt would usually let him leave it at that, but the drink had loosened his tongue. “I should have abandoned you for ‘Dara.”

“Don’t say that.” His father said quietly. “You two should not have been so close. He was our First, not a woman for you to take into the woods for some fun from time to time.”

“He was so much more than that!” Sahren snapped, and had to suppress the urge to throw the bottle at his father’s skull. His voice than went quieter, more threatening. “I loved him more than you would ever understand. I’m never going to be what you want me to be.”

“If you don’t want women, fine. I give up.” He raised his hands in surrender. “But the least you can do is quit pining for the dead like one and help the clan for a change.”

Glass shattered at the older elf’s feet, and he had to step back to avoid getting hit by the shards. Sahren swung himself out of the tree and stomped right to his father, crunching the shards further under his boots. Their faces were so close, he could smell the alcohol on his son’s breath. “Screw the clan, and screw you.”

“ _Creators,”_ A sharp intake of breath. _“_ Control yourself.”

“ _I am in control of myself.”_ Sahren replied, in a very quiet tone, almost a whisper. He was never one to throw the first swing, as he knew what alcohol could do to lesser men. But he was still so damn _mad._ “Leave me.”

“Please consider what I said-”

“Please consider what I’m saying now and _leave._ ”

Sighing, his father reluctantly stepped back, realizing he was pushing his limits at this point. “You win. I’ll leave, but the Keeper would like to have a word with you back in camp.”

Sahren turned his back to his father, the anger drained from him in an instant. He stepped back to the tree, resting a hand against the trunk as if to steady himself and staring at it as if it held the secrets to all his problems somewhere in the aged wood. “I’ll see her.” Was all the hunter would say in the matter, and he ignored his father until he was gone.

Cursing under his breath, Sahren slumped against the tree as if he lost all the strength keeping him upright. His voice was strained and his throat felt tight as he muttered to himself, “I’m sorry, ‘Dara. I’m not sure if I’m strong enough.”  



	4. Wanderlust

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The spark of excitement one feels at the start of an adventure is like nothing else. For once in a long time, Sahren had something to look forward to.

Not even pressing the heels of his palms to his temples seemed to help the headache building in his skull, but he was pretty much asking for it, drinking during the day and then getting into a pissing match with his father.

It wasn’t until the sun had already set and the other hunters had returned that Sahren finally slipped back into camp, earning a disapproving glare from a hunter he couldn’t remember the name of because he had clearly returned late and without a catch to show for it. Irritable and feeling childish, Sahren stuck his tongue out at her in response, and slipped away before she considered hitting him for it, making his way to the center.

The bonfire was bright. A little too bright, and his skull throbbed with his heartbeat in agreement. But the blaze continued on, his discomfort inconsequential to it’s dance towards the night sky, flames flickering in and out as though trying to grasp tightly onto the Veil and touch the Beyond. The sight was beautiful but unnerving, reminding him of darker shadows and the ghosts in his memories. 

“The fire is not trying to kill you, da’len.” Someone said over the crackle of the fire, startling him. 

He almost jumped right out of his skin until he realized it was the Keeper. Sahren gripped at his chest as he turned to face her, trying to calm his rapid heartbeat.“Please don’t scare me like that, Istimaethoriel.” 

There was mirth in her eyes, and the hunter could feel her laughter even if he didn’t hear it. “You are always either as angry as a bear or as spooked as a halla, and rarely anything in between.” 

“And you are always so cryptic.” He retorted, but it was relaxed and there was no bite in his banter. He was closer to the Keeper than the rest of the clan, and so her presence was a comfort.

Until she was disappointed, which he realized she was in the sharp line of her mouth when her expression changed. “Why are you late again, Sahren?” She asked, and Sahren rubbed the back of his neck and lowered his head.

“I was drinking, Keeper.” He answered, unable to bring himself to lie to her.

She sighed tiredly in response, her gaze gentle and warm. Sahren couldn’t bring himself to return it, and stared at the ground. “I know their deaths still pain you, but you are so distant from us.” She placed a hand on his shoulder. “You do not even care to know the names of most of the other hunters, and hide at the edge of camp.”

“I know.” He responded in a quiet tone. He was tired, and disagreeing with her would be pointless. “There isn’t much for me here. Not anymore.”

“Drinking your sorrows away won’t bring you happiness, Sahren.” She said softly, her voice reminding him much of her son, her First. “I know his death pains you so, and I will not belittle the bond the two of you shared.” 

At that, the hunter looked at her with surprise. Briefly, he gave her a weak but genuine smile, the first in a long time. “Thank you.”

The Keeper smiled back at him, as she remembered for a moment the two carefree boys she once knew, scrambling around her feet, Sahren’s mother laughing with her. Those days felt far too long ago. “If somewhere in this world there was happiness to be found, would you go look for it?” 

He looked at her with disbelief. “Are you saying that you would let me leave the clan?” 

“You said yourself that there isn’t much for you here anymore.” Sahren opened his mouth to protest, to reassure her that she was still family to him, but she raised her hand in a gesture for silence. “As an adult, you are allowed to make your own decisions. I am a merely a guide, not your blood, and your father doesn’t choose your fate for you.”

“But where would I even start?” He asked, sounding unsure. “I have blood on my hands as well. I can’t just settle down in a human city such as Kirkwall or Wycome.”

An idea came to her mind, then. “I’ll offer you a taste of the world, then, da’len. An important task should be enough.” Her eyes turned to the fire, and his insecurity gave way to anticipation, waiting for her to explain. 

“Outside of our little clan, a war has been raging. The Circles of Thedas have rebelled against the Templars. We have escaped some of it, but it will destroy us all sooner or later.” She glanced back at him. “The only hope for peace, before it is too late, is a meeting called the Conclave, in the Sacred Temple of Ashes in Ferelden.”

Ferelden was the home of a legend among the Dalish, Sahren knew. To the humans, he was the Hero of Ferelden, the conqueror of the Fifth Blight. But to elves, he was Mahariel the Archer, a fellow elf and a Grey Warden who had risen from the clans into someone the whole of Thedas respected. It made him excited to think that he could get a taste of the world that shaped that legend.

Awestruck, he stared at his Keeper in a whole new light. “And you want me to go there to spy on the outcome.”  _ To trust me with a mission like this, despite knowing my hatred of humans. I never expected her to have such faith in me.  _

“Yes.” She replied evenly, and Sahren felt more humbled than he ever had in his life, even comparing to the day he was given his vallaslin.

In an awkward, unfamiliar attempt at respect, he bowed his head, and suddenly realized how much taller he was than the Keeper. “I am honored that you would trust me for this task, even when knowing my flaws.”

She laughed, a light hearted, joyous sound ringing through the camp and finally attracting attention to their conversation, several confused glances thrown their way. “Oh, if you had both been blessed with magic, you would be such a  _ handful  _ of a Second.”

“I would like get Vun’lin ready, Keeper. We have never traveled such a distance together, so he needs to be well fed, and I would like to gather some things for myself as well.”

“Get ready then, Sahren. Might want to be ready to slip out when your father catches wind of this.” She said, giving him a conspiratorial smile. For the first time in ages, Sahren felt a stir of excitement in his chest.


	5. Must Be Elfroot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The fact he couldn’t remember why his hand was hurting like a bitch and that some shemlen were accusing him of murder surprisingly wasn’t the worst part of his day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally in the game, yay! Also, since I'm writing this all on mobile my autocorrect likes to be a little bitch. I apologize for any errors.

_ Well fuck. _

Waking up in cuffs on a cold dungeon floor wasn’t exactly his idea of a good start to a morning. Or for that matter, having pain shoot through his arm every few seconds,scrambling any attempts to process his thoughts and remember how he even got here to begin with.

_ Must have been a hell of a night. How much did I drink? _

Sahren groaned as he tried to regain his bearings in the dim light, and blinked in surprise when a painful green light flashed in the palm of his hand.  _ That’s new. _

His head lifted once he realized he was not alone in the room, when the door opened. Two shemlen women stepped into the dungeon, approaching him with expressions that told him they were far from happy.

The one with the black hair and a mean looking scar walked around behind him, and Sahren felt uncomfortable that he couldn’t defend himself.

“There was an explosion at the Conclave,” She starts near his ear, and Sahren wants so badly to growl at her for getting in his space but pissing her off would be a stupid idea. “Everyone who attended is dead,” she continues, walking in a full circle until she is now face to face. “except for you.”

_ Sounds like I’m in deep shit.  _ The hunter thinks to himself,  _ But you can take your accusations and shove it. _

He tilted his head up to look at her instead, baring his teeth in a soundless snarl. “You honestly think I’m responsible for an  _ explosion?”  _ Frustrated, he shakes his head. “I’m a hunter, not a mage, and I'm not here to be your scapegoat."

With her snatching hold of his wrist in a vice grip, the green shit flashes and a grimace flashes briefly on his features, pain lancing his arm again. “Explain  _ this,  _ then.”

ow is he supposed to explain what this thing when  _ he  _ doesn’t even know is beyond him. “I  _ don’t  _ know.”

“You’re  _ lying _ !” The scary woman practically spat at him, grabbing hold of him and looking like she wanted to violently throttle him.

“No, I’m not!” He snaps back, feeling threatened. He is about to consider trying to escape before the two humans decide to kill him when the one in the hood grabs hold of her companion, pulling them apart.

“We need him, Cassandra.” Not-Cassandra chastised, and surprisingly, Cassandra backs off though she clearly looks like she doesn’t want to.

Sahren is lost in thought now, as what is going on is starting to sink in. There were thousands of people there, and now they’re  _ dead _ , and yeah, he feels like shit for being the only one to survive. He regrets that he can’t give them any information, but that doesn’t change the fact that he doesn’t want to be here.

So he swallows down the survivor’s guilt like he’s always had to, and grasps onto the frustration to keep himself sane. “So, what now? Execution time?” He asks, with more confidence than he feels.

Not-Cassandra ignores his somewhat hostile sarcasm, and focuses on him intently. “What do you remember?”

_ I don’t remember jack shit.  _ He thinks, but instead of saying as much, he honestly tries to think about what happened. “I was running and some weird things were chasing me. The sky was green.” He says after a pause, his words measured, gnawing at his bottom lip. “A woman I didn’t recognize reached out to me.”  _ She had a funny looking hat.  _ He groaned in frustration at his shitty memory. “That’s all I can remember.”

“A woman?” The lady breathes, surprise clear in her tone as he takes a step back. Her eyes are wide. “Was she-”

“Go to the foward camp, Leliana.” Cassandra suddenly interrupts, startling them both. She steers Leliana towards the door. “I will meet you there. I will take him to the rift.”

“Alright.” Was Leliana’s reply, and after sparing the elf one last glance she made her leave.

Cassandra turned to him then and kneeled on the floor in front of him, taking his hands from the boardcuffs and replacing it with binding rope. Sahren looked at her now, eyes wide. “Where are you taking me?” He asked, believing he had a right to know.

He wanted to punch her when she dragged him to his feet and replied, “It would be easier to explain if I showed you.”  _ Great answer.  _ Yet he followed her anyway, wondering what she thought could be so hard to simply describe instead.

__________________________

 

“When the explosion happened, it tore a hole in the sky. We call it ‘The Breach’. It’s a massive rift into the world of demons that grows larger with each passing hour.”

I _must have smoked some fucking elfroot. Yeah, that had to be it._ There was a big fucking hole in the sky, straight into the Beyond, and apparently they thought all this was his fault? _Maybe they smoked it too._ _Yeah, everyone passed around elfroot at the Conclave and the war stopped because everyone’s too busy mass hallucinating._

She turned her back to the  _ thing _ in the sky, to face him again. He was too busy wrapping his mind around what he was seeing to give her the courtesy of eye contact. “It is not the only such rift, just the largest. All were caused by the explosion at the Conclave.”

_ Just no. There was no way that she was saying that one explosion caused these to crop up everywhere. _ Sahren’s life was already complicated, he didn’t need to be the one to start off the Apocalypse too. He finally asked, “Are you seriously telling me that one explosion did all that?” 

She walked up to him, her face completely deadpan. This was not a joke. “This one did.” She replied, and he really wanted it to be a joke. “Unless we act, the Breach may grow until it swallows the world.”

_ Uh, no. I wouldn’t touch that with a twenty foot pole.  _ But then that thing in the sky flared brightly, a thunderous noise coming from it as it pulsed like a living thing and took it’s wrath out on his arm.

Unable to help the hoarse cry of pain that tore itself from his throat, Sahren fell to his knees and curled in on himself, clutching his hands tightly against his body. It  _ hurt _ , more than he cared to admit. He was really not a happy elf when Cassandra kneeled down with him, telling him through his pain, “Each time the Breach expands, the mark on your hand spreads. And it  _ is killing you.” _

_ Sounds wonderful. _

Sure, he had a death wish, but this was  _ not  _ how he wanted to die. Preferably, he wanted to die on vacation in Antiva, with a bottle of expensive alcohol in his hand and enough angry shems to warrant his assassination. This was a bastardized version of that, but with Elfroot instead of alcohol and in really fucking cold mountains instead of Antiva.

Cassandra dragged him back out of his thoughts when she added, “It may be the key to stopping this, but we haven’t much time.”

He realized what she was hinting at, and he didn’t like it. So, trying to change the subject he snapped, “You really think I did this  _ to myself? _ How crazy are you, shem?”

“This whole situation is insane, elf.” She retorted. “Believing you to have caused this won’t make it any less so.” She jabbed her finger in the direction of the rift. “But something clearly went wrong, and you are the only suspect we have. If you truly wish to prove us wrong, this is the only way.”

_ So much for trying to get out of this.  _ “So I don’t really have much of a choice, then.”

Cassandra glared at him. “None of us has a choice, here.” She was pulling him to his feet again, and dragging him along. Sahren knew fighting her was pointless, and reluctantly complied.

_ Creators, this is one fucked up joke you’re all pulling on me. Haven’t you ruined my life enough? _

 

_ _________________________ _

  
  
  



	6. Wrath of Heaven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sahren is not the biggest fan of demons or being Cassandra's prisoner, but he does like the dwarf.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope this chapter isn't absolute shit, but I think it's longer than the others at least.
> 
> Warning that though it seems like I'm bashing Cassandra, that's not my intent. I like Cassandra, and Sahren does eventually learn to get along with her, but their personalities clash a lot in the beginning.
> 
> Happy 4th of July!

“There will be a trial. I can promise no more.” Cassandra says as she cuts the ropes binding his wrists together, and Sahren is free. Or at least, as free as his current predicament allowed.

For a brief moment Sahren contemplates bolting now, and getting the hell away from Cassandra and the hole in the sky. But he drops the idea before it’s completely formed in his mind when he saw the sheer amount of soldiers in front of him. And even if he somehow managed to escape them, Cassandra was obviously no pushover.

_ Guess this is it.  _ And reluctantly, he gives into his fate, as Cassandra adds, “Your mark must be tested on something other than the Breach.” 

He doesn’t let her see the roll of his eyes that follows. “Alright, shem. That gate, I’m guessing?” Her noncommittal grunt in response amuses him enough that he snorts and mutters as he starts to move, “Not one for small talk then.”

As he passes along the bridge, he grimaces at the amount of the already dead. It is never a pleasant sight no matter how much one sees of it, and he avoids looking at the bodies or the haunted gazes of the living.

He reaches the huge door, he hears Cassandra shout to someone, “Open the gate!” And the pointless thing opens.

Once he sees the fires and the barricades the huge door doesn’t seem pointless anymore. He nearly steps on the body of a templar trying to avoid three humans running by them, one practically crying, “Maker, it’s the end of the world,” and Sahren finds it harder to justify trying to escape, or the bile that rises in his throat uncomfortably.

_ Thinking about it until you’re sick isn’t going to bring these people back, Sahren. Just help them with what you can. _

He stops looking at the bodies, stops thinking about the dead and what he can’t remember, and moving forward through the chaos becomes a bit easier.

That is, until the stupid sky pulses again and intense pain shoots up his arm, nearly tripping him. He grasps his wrist with a shout, a litany of common and Elvhen curses on his tongue. “Fenedhis! Shit, Dread Wolf take your fucking Maker.” He hisses, and Cassandra gives him a disapproving glare as she pulls him to his feet. “What?”

She just ignores him, saying like he doesn’t know, “The pulses are coming faster now,” and this time he doesn’t hide the eye roll. “No shit.”

“Are all elves this vulgar?” She asks, and makes a noise that clearly expresses her disgust. 

“No, I’m actually a very bad example.” He says almost like he’s proud of it. “See, if I was a good elf, I’d be home with my clan and not walking into the heart of the Apocalypse with a scary shem.”

She chooses to change the subject after that and continue walking. Sahren considers it a win. “The longer the Breach exists, more rifts appear, and more demons we have to face.” She says, looking at the sky instead.

The deeper he gets into this, the more his survival seems questionable even to himself. The question is out before he can stop it. “How did I even survive the blast?”

“You stepped out of a rift, then fell unconscious. They say a woman was in the rift behind you. No one knows who she was.”

_ Oh, so the lady with the funny hat wasn’t a hallucination.  _ He glances at Cassandra briefly with surprise. She continued on as they rounded a corner, “Everything farther in the valley was laid waste to, including the Temple of Sacred Ashes. You will see soon enough.”

_ Sounds great. _

The rift pulses again as they step onto another bridge, and Sahren barely has time to look up and see a flash of green before it hits the bridge directly in front of them, causing it to collapse right underneath him. They tumble down, and hit the frozen river below. Cassandra rolls, but Sahren is far less grateful and wheezes as the wind is knocked from his lungs.

_ Shit not again _ .

Another of those green comets strikes down in front of them, and as if out of a nightmare, a demon materializes in front of them. He freezes for a second as he remembers with horror that he is without a weapon, and he frantically looks around. 

“Get behind me!” Cassandra yells, rushing the demon.

Sahren snaps at her, “Fuck that!” He sees a bow and full quiver off to the side, and though it looks like shit quality it’s better than nothing so he dives for it just as another demon materializes, this time much closer to him.

The demon rushes him in time to get an arrow straight through what looks like it’s face. It disintegrates instantly, and Sahren thanks Andruil for his aim. Cassandra seems to be struggling against the other demon, and just as Sahren considers whether it’s worth it to save her, she finally kills the thing.

Sahren approaches her cautiously. “Fat lot ‘getting behind you’ did for me.”

He really shouldn’t have been surprised when a sword was then aimed at his chest. “Drop your weapon,  _ now _ .”

“Are you serious?” He really needs to stop asking her that. The woman seems like she wouldn’t know a joke if it bit her in the ass. “I  _ need _ this weapon.”

“You don’t  _ need _ to fight.” She retorts. Sahren feels his jaw go slack, and can’t think of a response to such a stupid argument. Tilting his head skyward, he inhaled deeply and then blew out slowly. “Creators, why?” He mouthed soundlessly, then looked back to her. “You can’t guarantee this won’t happen again, can you?”

“You’re right.” Reluctantly, she sheathed her sword and Sahren found it in him to be surprised but grateful for Cassandra’s change of heart. “I cannot be responsible for your safety. You can keep your weapon.”

She turns on her heel and starts to walk away, but something makes her pause and glance back at him. “I shall remember at least, that you didn’t attempt to run,” and Sahren’s suddenly glad he didn’t.

“And I’ll remember that you didn’t gut me on the spot for holding a weapon,” He returned after a moment. Her eyes widened, searching his face for something that suggested he was being sarcastic again but his face remained completely deadpan. Finally he broke eye contact with her, looking off to the side, and rubbed at his neck with his free hand absently. “Ma serannas, human.” 

She had no idea what that meant, and he didn’t care to elaborate as he trudged past her, bow in hand. “We better hurry up, then, if I’m to prove this shit isn’t my fault.” She followed him, doubt starting to creep into her mind.

_ Just maybe, the elf wasn’t the culprit behind the explosion? _

 

______________________________

 

Sahren’s seen enough bodies in this hellhole alone that looting is easy, once you disregard the stench of death. At least the cold was slowing the rot. 

Scrunching up his nose in disgust, he takes what he can from the bodies of Templars and mages alike. It’s not like they need their things anymore, anyway.  _ Waste not, want not, and all that shit. _

They kill lots of demons along the way, too. Sahren is quickly growing sick of them, and wondering where the survivors are. Cassandra tells him that most are likely at the Forward Camp, where she sent Leliana.

___________________________

 

They reach one of the smaller rifts just in time to save two of Cassandra’s companions. A beardless dwarf and an elven mage.

_ Creators, the flat-ear’s head looks like an egg. _

But then the aforementioned flat-ear grabbed his hand. “Quickly, before more come through!” He shouts, and Sahren doesn’t have time to be offended or question what the other elf wants him to do before his hand is shoved into the rift. To his amazement, his hand flashes and the rift closes.

He snatches his hand away and stumbles back a step, staring at him in astonishment. “What did you  _ do?” _

“ _ I _ did nothing.” He responds to Sahren, smiling, “The credit is yours.”

“So my hand did that?” Sahren blinks owlishly, then stares at the palm of his hand, which is glowing. It looks like a small tear in the Fade, but in his  _ hand _ . This mark apparently made him a fucking _mage._

“I theorized that your mark, as it appeared at the same time as the rifts, might be what closes them.” The bald elf smirks at him, and Sahren felt a vague sense of unease.

“That’s a hell of a theory to come up with on the spot.” Sahren replied, gnawing on his bottom lip again. This guy made him nervous.

But Cassandra approaches, agreeing openly with the mage, and Sahren wonders if he’s just being stupidly skittish like a halla, as the Keeper had told him. Then, they both look at him and the mage says, “Looks like the mark on your hand may be the key to our salvation.”

Sahren doesn’t really think he’s fit to be called anyone’s salvation, and is about to tell them so when the dwarf pipes up, “And here I thought we’d be ass deep in demons forever.” The hunter snorts, surprised and amused and can’t help but agree with that particular sentiment.

The dwarf introduces himself. “So, Varric Tethras.” He says, hands up in a friendly gesture. “Rogue, storyteller, and occasionally unwelcome tag along.” He winks at Cassandra, earning that same noise of disgust Sahren got out of her and he can’t help but automatically like this dwarf.

There is no way he’s with the Chantry, but Sahren asks anyway. “Are you with the Chantry like Cassandra, or...something?” He asks, trailing off awkwardly. 

The bald elf laughs. “Is that a serious question?” The tips of Sahren’s ears go pink despite the cold. 

The dwarf saves him from his embarrassment, thankfully. “Nah. To be honest I’m a prisoner, just like you.” He answers, to Sahren’s surprise. He feels a little guilty for it, but he’s glad he’s not the only one here without a choice.

Cassandra shakes her head, however. “I brought you here to tell your story to the Divine, but that is..no longer necessary.”

The dwarf grinned. “Yet here I am. Lucky for you, considering current events.” And yeah, Sahren definitely likes him. And that crossbow, too.

“I like this dwarf.” He says with a jerk of his thumb, glancing at Cassandra and the mage, earning another disapproving noise from Cassandra and an amused one from the latter. His lips curled into a smirk at Varric, and he gestures to the crossbow. “That’s a nice crossbow you have there.”

Varric sighs wistfully at the comment and pats the handle over his shoulder. “Isn’t she? Bianca and I have been through a lot together.”

“Bianca?” Sahren can’t help but arch an eyebrow. “I call my bow from home Alas’nira in private, but to my sorrow, she has been parted from me along with my daggers.” Sahren looked pointedly at Cassandra and pouted childishly. “Most likely, Cassandra confiscated them when I was found.”

“That’s rough, buddy.” Varric replied, nodding his head sympathetically. “Bianca will be great company in the valley, though.”

At that, Cassandra frowned and stepped towards Varric. “Absolutely not.” Sahren stuck out his tongue at her while her back was turned, because he wanted Varric to stay. Cassandra did not notice but sighed, and looked away. “Your help is appreciated, Varric, but-”

Varric lifted up a hand at her, because  _ whoa, no _ . “Have you been in the valley lately, Seeker?” He asked, and tilted his head, looking at Cassandra with a triumphant smile because he knew Cassandra would give into it. Cassandra made that noise yet again before turning away from him in surrender.

“ _ Yes _ .” Sahren said triumphantly under his breath.

The other elf then began with, “My name is Solas, if there are to be introductions,” and gestured to himself. “I am pleased to see you still live.”

Sahren looked at Solas, thrown by that comment, but Varric noticed the hunter’s confusion and was nice enough to explain helpfully, “He meant to say, ‘I kept that mark from killing you as you slept.”

_ Now I feel like shit for thinking the guy was shady.  _ Sahren thought to himself, before asking curiously, “You seem to know quite a bit about what’s going on.”

“I know quite a bit, yes.” Solas replied, his expression giving away that he was pleased that Sahren was interested.

“He is an apostate, and is well versed in such matters.” Cassandra elaborated, and Solas looked at her with his own version of the disapproval stare, which was amusing to look at.

“Technically all mages are apostates now Cassandra, but yes. I have travelled for much of my life and as a result have attained far more knowledge and experience than any Circle mage.”

Sahren took back the flat-ear statement, but was confused. That would likely mean he was Dalish, and yet, he had no vallaslin.  The hunter decided now was the wrong time to press it, however, and Solas continued, “So I came to offer whatever help I can give with the Breach. If it is not closed, we are all doomed regardless of origin.”

_ An apostate and a dwarf helping the Chantry with the Breach. How much weirder is this situation going to get? _

“And what will you do once this is over?” Sahren found himself asking.

Solas clasped his hands behind his back and glanced at Cassandra briefly, “Hopefully those in power will remember who helped, as well as those who did not.”

_ Yeah, that makes two of us, Solas. _

“Ah, Cassandra,” Solas turned his attention to the Seeker, as he realized something. “You should know that the magic involved here is unlike anything I’ve seen.” He gestured at Sahren, adding, “Your prisoner here is no mage. Indeed, I find it hard to believe  _ any  _ mage having such power.”

 

Sahren blinked, surprised that Solas would save his life, and then go on to say that, though he wished Cassandra would have thought of it sooner. “The defense is unexpected, but not unwelcome,” The hunter forked his fingers through his hair, unsure how to respond. “Uh, ma serannas.”  _ I’ve now said that more times today than in the past few years. _

Cassandra looked at Sahren, confused as she heard that unfamiliar phrase again, but Solas nodded, understanding what she didn’t. She gave up trying and instead acknowledged Solas. “Understood,” She started to walk away,adding, “We should make for the Forward Camp now. The sooner we meet up with Leliana the better.”

Solas followed after her, and paused to look at Sahren. “Well,” Shrugging, he gave the elf a smirk. “Bianca’s excited.”

Without realizing it, Sahren didn’t lament over his predicament this time, only hesitating for a second before he followed behind the dwarf, a gleam of amusement in his eyes.

_ At least this was more interesting than I expected when the Keeper called for me. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really glad and feel lucky that Inquisition, which lagged so bad I couldn't play it for a year, chose to work right when I started writing this. It made writing out the scenes so much easier, because I could experience the game as Sahren does and come up with his reactions better because they come to me in the heat of the moment.
> 
> I usually write past tense, but I noticed that playing the scenes through at the same time I write them has been making me switch to present tense a lot. I apologize, and I hope the switching of tense does not confuse people.


	7. Wrath of Heaven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Maker does not approve of sarcasm or elven vulgarity, and neither does Cassandra. Not that Sahren particularly cares. He's more invested in not freaking out over all of this weird he's not sure he's able to handle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hopefully, once they reach Haven there will be more scenes that deviate further from the games. And who knows, maybe I might try my hand at a plot after Trespasser.
> 
> Thank you for reading!

As they continue on, Sahren finds that the four of them work well in combat. Cassandra keeps the attention of the demons, and Solas backs everyone up with barriers without even being asked. Then, sometimes Solas will freeze a demon and it’s amusing to watch the hail of arrows and bolts shatter it into pieces.

Eventually, when he stopped after a fight to reload his crossbow, Varric gets curious and asks, “So,  _ are _ you innocent?” and it takes a second for Sahren to realize the dwarf is talking to him.

He stopped looting another corpse and straightened, rolling his shoulders before turning his head to look at Varric. “To be honest, I don’t remember what happened. Everything involving the Conclave is just a blank for me.”

“Ouch. No wonder they’re chomping at the bit to blame you.” Varric replied, wincing sympathetically. “Should’ve spun a story.”

Cassandra’s lips curled in distaste when she overheard the suggestion. “That’s what you would have done, Varric.”

“Yeah, because it’s more  _ believable _ ,” Varric retorted, because that should have been obvious, “and less prone to result in premature execution.”

“You have a point.” Sahren replied, and then with a deadpan expression and a flat tone, he turned to look at his three companions, saying, “I should have told you, Cassandra, that the reason why the Temple exploded was because the Maker himself was deeply offended by my completely unrepentant vulgarity and elven savagery.”

The dwarf started laughing so hard that he nearly doubled over, and the comment even got a startled laugh out of Solas. Sahren considered it another win and their reactions totally worth it. “Ha, Andraste help me, I’m writing that down when we get out of this! I can do that, right?”

“Be my guest.” Sahren replied, smirking and sketching a brief bow that practically reeked of sarcasm. “I would be honored to have the great Varric Tethras quote me in one of his future works.”

Cassandra pinched the bridge of her nose, and exhaled slowly, muttering, “Maker, I already get enough unnecessary comments from the dwarf,” and then stormed past them, to which Sahren looked at Varric with a raised eyebrow.

Varric shrugged. “She’s always like that. I personally thought that was gold, though.” 

“We should go before Cassandra decides there is less trouble to be had in executing you.” Solas stated dryly, as he passed them. Sahren decided to stick with the dwarf after that.

______________________________

 

After a handful more demons and several flaming wagons, they reached the entrance to the forward camp just in time to stumble upon another rift. He felt a twitch in his arm as they reached it, and Sahren realized with surprise that the Mark was sensing the rifts and warning him that way.

Once they dispatched the demons surrounding it, Sahren felt the pull and this time he gave into it. Outstretching his palm, a light shot out from his arm to the rift, tethering him to it. When the pull got painful, Sahren instinctively clenched his fist and yanked his hand back, closing the rift almost instantly.

“Whatever that thing on your hand is, it sure is useful.” Varric commented, as Solas and Cassandra headed for the gate to the forward camp.

Sahren was too busy staring at his hand in amazement to do anything more than a half-shrug and mutter, “Hell of an understatement.”

But he followed after them through the gate anyway, yanking his gaze away from his palm, and heard Leliana before he saw her, and she was arguing with a man in Chantry attire.

“Ah, they’re finally here.” He commented, sounding just as annoyed as Sahren felt just looking at him.

Leliana, on the other hand looked relieved to see them. “You made it!” She exclaimed, stepping toward them, and glanced at the annoying man. “Chancellor Roderick, this is-”

“I know who  _ he  _ is.” Roderick snapped, dismissive, and Sahren pulled up short, gritting his teeth. The man didn’t acknowledge him directly after that, jabbing a finger at the hunter while glaring at Cassandra. “As grand Chancellor of the Chantry I hereby order you to take this  _ criminal _ to Val Royeaux to  _ face execution.” _

“ _ Criminal _ ?” Sahren echoed, and clenched his fists. “I’ll-” He stepped closer, his posture threatening, but Varric barred his path with an arm and shook his head.

To his surprise, though, Cassandra teared into the Chancellor herself. “Order  _ me?”  _ She snapped, tilting her head at him as if he were spouting bullshit in tongues. He might as well had been. Stepping forward to where she was shoulder to shoulder with Sahren, she added, “You are nothing but a glorified clerk.  _ A bureaucrat.” _

It was even more surprising that he kept going, even knowing who Cassandra was. “And you are a thug, but supposedly a thug that serves the Chantry.” He retorted.

Leliana tried in vain to diffuse the situation, trying to placate Roderick, though her own tone was forcibly polite. “We serve the Most Holy, Chancellor,” She looked at Cassandra pointedly, her gaze warning the Seeker to cool it, “as you well know.”

Roderick threw his hands up, shouting, “Justinia is  _ dead!”  _ Then, his mouth thinned into a grim line and he added, quieter, “We must elect her replacement and obey  _ her  _ orders on the matter.”

“So, no one here is even in charge,” Sahren began acidly, “you talk about my execution as if I’m not here and don’t even let me have a say on the matter.” He had to resist spitting in Roderick’s face. “The least you can do is call me by my clan name, Lavellan, while you’re at it, instead of prisoner.”

Not one of his companions rebuked his statement either, which was a pleasant surprise. Roderick wasn’t having it though. “Your name doesn’t matter here because you  _ killed everyone who was in charge!” _

“Now, that’s a heavy accusation.” Sahren retorted. “I’d like to see the evidence to back it up.”

Instead of responding to that, Roderick turned back to Cassandra, changing tactics. “See reason, Seeker.” He pleaded. “Call a retreat. Our position here is hopeless.”

Cassandra shook her head, too determined to be deterred. “We can stop this, before it is too late.”

“How? You wouldn’t reach the rift alive, even with all of your soldiers.”

“We must get to the Temple, it is the quickest route.”

Leliana, who had been just listening this far, stepped forward and interrupted. “But not the safest.” Pointing at the mountain peaks closest to the temple, she elaborated, “Our forces can charge as a distraction while you take a hidden pass, cutting through the mountains.”

“We lost contact with an entire squad on that pass, it’s too risky.” Cassandra interjected.

_ Either idea sounds pretty damn risky. Just make up your minds and get on with it. _

Clashing his hands together nervously, Roderick’s fight was gone as he practically begged Cassandra, “Listen to me and abandon this now, before more lives are lost.” 

A huge crackling noise cut through the wind like thunder, and the Breach glowed a bright green as it pulsed. Sahren's arm shook as pain shot through his limb, and made him grit his teeth to hold back an audible complaint. He grabbed his wrist as the mark pulsed.

Roderick’s eyes narrowed and his eyebrows furrowed in sudden thought as he noticed the mark, and when the pain started to ebb away Cassandra was in front of Sahren. All eyes were suddenly on him, and he rubbed his wrist uncomfortably. Cassandra’s next words came as a shock. “How do  _ you  _ think we should proceed, Lavellan?”

Sahren’s jaw went slack, and then tightened, his mouth snapping shut and his eyes narrowed at her. “Are you honestly asking what  _ I think?” _

“You have the mark,” Solas said helpfully.

“And you are the one we must keep alive.” Cassandra finished, “Since we cannot agree on our own, the choice is best left to you.”

_ Why are they saddling me with their responsibility?  _ Sahren thought, frustrated. He looked at each of them, in turn searching their expressions, but no one spoke up.

His face screwed up in irritation as he realized they would stare at him until he made a decision. “I guess we’ll take the damn mountain pass then.” He finally decided, just to get them to leave him alone.

Cassandra scowled at his decision but made no audible protest, and Varric’s silent thumbs up made Sahren’s irritation fade by the time Cassandra started shouting orders.

As they headed for the pass, Roderick leaned wearily against his desk, refusing to look at any of them. “On your head be the consequences, Seeker.”

Sahren flipped the Chancellor the bird as they left, earning a laugh from Varric when he said in parting, “And on your head be the Maker’s ass.” They were gone before the Chancellor decided to execute him on the spot.

_______________________________

 

The abandoned mining complex was interesting, but it was a bit hard to climb the ladders and not get blown off the mountain by the freezing winds. 

Closing rifts was getting easier now, and the cold was doing a good job of numbing his arm. The scouts were grateful, and Sahren’s new hobby was apparently closing rifts and saving people. No one realized he was being sarcastic that time.

_____________________________

When they finally got close enough to the Breach and Sahren saw what remained of the explosion, it came as a shock. And when he saw the first body, petrified in a terrifying position, stuck in it’s final moments, he felt violently ill and had to step away from his companions for a moment.

“The Temple of Sacred Ashes.” Solas breathed, awed by the destruction.

“Yeah,” Varric added in, feeling as sick as Sahren looked, “what’s left of it, at least.”

To his embarrassment the three of them had followed him, and while Cassandra avoided eye contact, Solas was frowning in concern and Varric approached him, cautiously as if afraid to spook Sahren. “You alright there, elf?” He asked.

Sahren wiped at his chin and then scowled at the dwarf. “Oh, I’m just  _ fantastic _ , Varric.” He retorted dryly, pressing a hand against what might have once been a wall to steady himself. “Nothing like surviving an explosion that left petrified bodies and green fire out of everyone else to make me feel lucky.”

“Any sane person would have lost their lunch in your position,” Varric responded placatingly, “no need to be ashamed of it. This shit’s a nightmare as is.”

“I still don’t even remember how all this happened, anyway. Maybe that’s not such a bad thing.” Sahren replied with a soft, strained exhale.

“I don’t know,” Varric chuckled uneasily, “Shit’s probably bad enough, but it doesn’t do well to convince the masses of your heroism.”

“I’m no saint, Varric. I didn’t do this, but I’m not exactly the picture of kindness, trust me on that.” Sahren replied with a bitter huff of laughter, and pushed himself off the wall, taking a few steps forward ahead of his companions. He stared at the Breach now, feeling very small under the sheer size of it. “There is no way my hand can reach that.”

Varric whistled as he stood next to Sahren. “That is a _long_ way up _.”_

_ “ _ You were found by our soldiers not far from here. It is a wonder you survived.” Cassandra added in, as she followed, Solas right behind her.

Leliana and a few soldiers rounded the corner a second later. “You’re here. Thank the Maker!” She shouted, startling Sahren enough that his gaze snapped in her direction, eyes wide.

“Leliana.” Cassandra acknowledged, and motioned to the edges of the area around the Rift. “Have your men take up positions around the temple.” With a nod, Leliana obeyed, motioning her men. “I’ll meet you down there.”

As Leliana left, Cassandra turned her focus on Sahren. “This is your chance to end this. Are you ready?”

The elf narrowed his eyes at her. “Ready as I’m ever going to get.” He responded after a pause, tone measured and even. He jerked his thumb towards the Breach behind him. “That thing’s massive and I don’t even know how to begin getting up there. Any ideas?”

Solas apparently did. The apostate glanced briefly at the rift below the Breach, and then spoke. “This rift was clearly the first. Close it, and we might have a chance at closing the Breach itself.”

“Guess that’s what we’ll do, then.” Sahren replied with a shrug, and then began to trudge downward, gesturing with a two fingered come hither type of motion. “Come on, then. Got a Breach to close, and then you people owe me a drink.”

“What is with broody elves and alcohol?” Varric asked with a startled laugh and followed after Sahren, Cassandra and Solas coming along a moment after. 

“No idea.” Sahren replied, slicking his hair back through his fingers. Varric noticed that the elf did that a lot. But when he opened his mouth to tease him about it, a voice suddenly echoed from the rift.

_ “Now is the hour of our victory. Bring forth the sacrifice.” _

The whole group was startled, and Sahren’s walking slowed as he grabbed his bow nervously. “The hell was that?” He asked, eyes wide as he stared at their surroundings.

Cassandra was just as unnerved. “I don’t know.” Glancing at Solas, she asked, “What are we hearing?”

“At a guess?” Solas stared intently at the rift, thinking for a second before he answered, “The person who created the Breach.”

Sahren nearly smacked into something, but was glad he didn’t when he realized it was lyrium. “This shit’s red.” He muttered, startled.  _ The hum it’s giving off makes me uneasy. _

Varric noticed it too, and recognized it, by the look he gave it. “Shit, are you seeing this, Seeker? It’s  _ red lyrium.”  _

“I see it, Varric.”

The dwarf sounded like he was legitimately afraid of the rock, and Sahren backed away, deciding that if something scared Varric then it was worth staying the hell away from. “It sounds  _ wrong _ . What the hell does it do?”

“Drove my brother insane.” Varric admitted, “But what’s it doing  _ here?” _

“Million royal question right there.” Sahren agreed, and tried to skirt around the stuff, the rest of them following his lead.

“Magic could have drawn on lyrium beneath the temple, corrupted it.” Solas guessed.

“Whatever the reason, that shit’s evil.” Varric shook his head. “Don’t touch it.”

“Noted.” Was Sahren’s mutter towards the dwarf. “All of this shit is creeping me out like you wouldn’t believe.” He ran his fingers through raven strands again, clearly nervous.

The voice echoed around them again, ominous and powerful as it said,  _ “Keep the sacrifice still.”   _ Another voice, just as unfamiliar to Sahren spoke after, but this time it was a female.  _ “Someone help me!” _

“That is Divine Justinia’s voice!” Cassandra shouted. 

Sahren didn’t react to that and jumped down to the ground, as the pathway lacked stairs to the floor of the crater the Breach had created. “We’re at the rift now, come on.” He snapped impatiently, but didn’t wait for them as he approached it.  _ How in the hell am I going to close that? _

Then, suddenly, the mark was reacting again. It glowed and shot pain up his arm, and the Rift replied to the pulses in his hand by echoing the Divine’s voice again. Then, a third voice rang out, startling Sahren. It was his own, confused and angry as it echoed,  _ “Creators, the fuck did I just walk into?” _

Varric snorted. “I’d recognize that elven vulgarity anywhere by now.” And Sahren gave the dwarf a look somewhere between amused and ‘shut up’, while also trying to ignore the pulses continuing from the mark.

“That was  _ your  _ voice.” Cassandra gasped, surprised. “Most Holy called out to you, but-”

She was interrupted as the Rift itself pulsed, and suddenly, they could see the echo of what happened. There was a silhouette of the culprit, along with the Divine. “So the lady with the funny hat really was real.” Sahren mumbled under his breath, and Varric was close enough to hear it, earning a raised eyebrow.

The Divine looked at Sahren fearfully, shouting,  _ “Run while you can. Warn them!” _

_ “We have an intruder.”  _ The silhouette stated, and pointed at Sahren.  _ “Slay the elf.”  _ The rift pulsed again, and the echo faded.

“You  _ were _ there!” Cassandra snapped, sounding frantic, and the Seeker approached so fast that the elf took a startled step back. She got in his face with a flurry of questions, “Who attacked? And the Divine, is she..? Was this vision true? What happened?”

Sahren raised his hands up in a surrendering gesture to keep from punching the human to get her out of his personal space. “I told you,  _ shem _ , that I don’t remember! You ask too much of me!” He snapped. 

“Woah now, let’s not kill each other.” Varric sputtered, getting between his companions and carefully pushing them apart. Sahren growled but otherwise let him, and the dwarf pinched the bridge of his nose with a sigh. “Seeker, he’s clearly trying. Give him some space.” He then turned to Solas. “Got any ideas, Chuckles?”

Solas approached the rift, and coughed into his fist to get Sahren and Cassandra to stop glaring daggers at each other. “Those were echoes of what happened here. The Fade bleeds into this place.” He jabbed his staff into the ground, taking an authoritative stance and addressed everyone around the rift. “This rift is not sealed but closed, albeit temporarily.” He looked pointedly at Sahren. “I believe that with the mark the rift can be opened, then sealed properly and safely. However, this will likely attract attention from the other side.”

“That means demons.” Cassandra explained loudly, “Stand ready!” At her order, everyone started to draw their weapons, including Leliana and her archers. 

Once everyone was in position, Sahren sighed to himself and reluctantly lifted his arm, outstretching his palm to the rift. “Guess I have no choice then.” He muttered.  _ Well, here I go. _

The mark activated, tethering to the rift, and Sahren yanked his hand back, tearing the thing open and making green light explode around them. 

A demon shot out of it and materialized in front of Sahren, a hulking, massive brute with horns and a whip made of lightning. The thing grinned down at the elf.

_ Oh, we’re fucked. _


	8. Fear and Deceit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A pride demon nearly kills them all, and Sahren hates his dreams.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hopefully it's not trash. Thank you for waiting, and reading.

“It’s a Pride demon!” Someone shouted, and the hulking thing swung it’s fist down at Sahren, the elf’s eyes wide as he realized the blow about to come for him. There was no time to dodge, and this all happened within a second that ended in him being punched halfway across the crater.

“L-Lavellan!” Cassandra exclaimed, watching with disbelief as the elf’s back hit the ground, knocking the breath out of his lungs and sending him skidding across the dirt. But she was unable to check to see if Sahren was even still breathing, as the Pride demon came for her next, unaffected by the soldiers’ and Leliana’s hail of arrows.

She stepped to the right to avoid the crackling whip, feeling the electricity's sharp heat miss her by mere inches. With a lift her shield, deflected a blow of it’s arm, spiny scales and claws scratching against the shrieking metal. “Solas! Varric!” The Seeker shouted.

The warmth of magic was welcomed for once as Solas’ formed a barrier around her, blocking another crushing blow that would have decimated her shield as well as her arm. Varric ran past her, heading to Sahren. “On it, Seeker!”

_ Fuck, that hurt.  _ Sahren’s head swam, and rolled onto his stomach, wheezing and trying to get off his back, which felt like it would be nothing but a bruise later. “F-Fenedhis..” He cursed, blinking owlishly just as Varric came running to his side.

“Not a good time to take a dirt nap.” Varric commented as he held out a hand to the elf, who took it and was thankfully hauled to his feet, still wheezing somewhat.

“N-Noted, Varric.” Sahren responded through gritted teeth, turning his attention to the demon.

A clang rang through the crater as Cassandra swung her sword at the demon, only to have it blocked by the scales on it”s arm. “We must strip it’s defenses!” Another blow glanced off the demon, another snap of it’s whip frantically dodged. “Wear it down!”

“Disrupt it’s connection to the rift!” Solas shouted helpfully, as he tried his hardest to maintain Cassandra’s barrier while also tossing ice from his staff at the thing.

“Got it.” Sahren grumbled, and as Varric stayed beside him to riddle the thing with bolts, he outstretched his hand to it, and somehow, he knew what to do instinctively. Forcibly clearing the rift opening, he severed it’s connection to the Fade temporarily. The lightning shorted out and the monstrosity stumbled to it’s knees, trying to shield itself with it’s arms and this time Cassandra’s blade sliced across it’s scales, spraying blood. The thing let out an unearthly sounding howl. “The demon is vulnerable, now!” The Seeker shouted, and the hail of combined range attacks started anew, this time piercing it’s thick hide.

Despite the pain to his back, Sahren pulled out his bow and notched three arrows, sending them all flying into the demon’s shoulder. With a scream, it reached for the arrows sticking out of it’s body and tried to rip out the ones jutting out of it’s arm, breaking the shafts along with chunks of hide and blood.

Varric’s shots were much more rapid, and the archers continued their own assault, while Cassandra stabbed it in the thigh, ripping out the blade in time to deflect another swing.

As Sahren continued to release arrows from his bow, he did it with far more skill than the humans, notching two or three arrows at a time and having them all hit the demon. But he noticed the demon drawing from the rift again, and acted quickly, firing off yet another arrow before tearing at the connection with the mark, forcing the thing to it’s knees with another exploding wave of green.

“More coming from the rift!” He heard Cassandra shout, and a little too late, Varric’s warning. “Look out behind you!”

A demon had materialized behind Sahren, one of the average ones with the shadowy wraith-like body and a single glowing light where the head should be. It struck out a clawed hand at him, and Sahren whirled around in time for his weapon to take the blow instead.

Like he said before, the bow was shit quality, and it broke into splinters in his hands, cutting through his gloves and maiming his forearms, a slash or two across his left cheek. He stumbled back, and the demon reached out to swipe at him again, rake him across the eyes-

When the warmth of magic rushed over Sahren, blocking the claws a mere inch from his face. Solas’ barrier just saved him from being permanently blinded, but he didn’t have enough time to thank the mage, and scrambled frantically in the dirt for a weapon. Just in time, he grabbed a sword from a fallen scout, and though he was unfamiliar with the weight of it he cut through the Sloth demon’s form, dispersing it.

“Thanks!” Sahren shouted, throwing a glimpse the other elf’s way and getting a short nod in return, before Sahren’s attention was drawn to the Pride demon again. It had knocked Cassandra’s shield aside and had the Seeker in it’s grasp, hauling her high off the ground. To his surprise, she got her sword hand free and stabbed it between it’s many beaded eyes, and it screamed at her, beginning to crush her.

“I need  _ aid!”  _ The Seeker snarled through the pain, and for a moment Sahren forgot that he was this warrior’s prisoner, that he wasn’t even fighting this demon by choice or that he hated humans. All that mattered was that someone’s life was in danger, and he wouldn’t stand for failing to save anyone again. Varric shouted something at him but the elf didn’t hear it, as he rushed to the Seeker’s aid with a sword in hand that wasn’t even his, and climbed up the demon like a fucking  _ squirrel. _

“Holy shit!” Varric gasped, as he tried not to hit the elf with the bolts from his crossbow.  _ This guy is completely insane! _

By sheer luck, all the arrows and bolts thrown the demon’s way missed Sahren, whizzing by his ears and striking the demon instead of him, or missing them both entirely. Startled by the elf, the demon dropped Cassandra and tried to reach for him, to pull him from it’s back, but Sahren was climbing up the demon too fast, and reached just behind it’s head, grabbing hold of the horns with one hand to keep from being thrown off, borrowed sword in the other.

The sword gleaned in the light from the mark and the rift as Sahren held it high, and sent it plummeting into the demon’s neck.

The demon jerked, screaming, and stumbled backwards, verging on falling over and threatening to crush Sahren beneath it’s bulk. Solas sent a cone of frost at it’s feet, trying to stop the fall, and the ice shattered quickly under the weight. Sahren jerked his body and the sword sideways, severing the demon’s head from it’s body as they fell.

Sahren tumbled just enough to the side that he hit the ground beside rather than beneath the demon, sword skittering away, a thunderous thud drowning out the elf’s cry of pain.

A sudden hush fell over everyone in the crater, broken only by the cheers that started when it was noticed that Sahren had enough strength left in him to haul himself to his feet before the rift.

“Seal it  _ now _ !” Solas shouted, and Sahren turned a head to look at them. There was blood dripping down the elf’s chin. He extended his hand towards the rift and pulled, hard. A shriek of pain escaped the elf as pain exploded throughout his body, but he grit his teeth and fought through it. The rift slammed shut and green light shot up into the sky, into the Breach.

And then everything went a blinding white.

_________________________________

 

_ The wind whispers in the trees, carrying with it the scent of life and herbs. Dirt coats the young child’s hands and knees, bunches of elfroot grasped in tiny fists. _

_ She laughed down at two little boys, ruffling their hair affectionately. “You’re both doing such a good job,” She praises them. “With you two, I’ll have enough elfroot to last the clan months!” _

_ A rustling noise comes from behind them, and her eyes grow wide. Coming from the woman is now a low tone, a warning, staff in her hand. Sahren looks up at his mother and he sees her eyes flash a brilliant blue. “Feladara, go to your mother. Sahren, go with him.” _

_ Feladara runs into the underbrush, back to camp but Sahren stays. “I’m not leaving.” And it’s too late for her to protest before the humans are upon them. _

_ He is wrenched away from his mother, a knife against his tiny throat. They give her an ultimatum. _

_ Your son, or your clan? _

_ Her response is an explosive one, blue light engulfing his vision. She is covered in human blood and veins of blue crack the surface of her skin, mirroring the vallaslin of Mythal on her face. _

_ They will never take you from me. _

_ Never. _

_ An arrow whistles through the air, and pierces her heart from behind. She gasps, blood dripping from her lips, hands reaching for the arrows poking out from her chest. There is betrayal in her eyes, the glow fading. Why? We’re not wrong, I’m still me. _

_ Her body collapses in front of him. There are tears in his eyes as he looks at his dying mother. At the one who betrayed her. _

_ I was trying to protect him, so why? Her eyes say, pleading for an answer in her last moments. _

_ The little boy watches helplessly as his mother is taken from him, and screams. _

________________________

 

What really comes out of his mouth is more of a pathetic cry than a scream. His eyes snap open to somewhere blurry and unfamiliar, his nerves ablaze with pain, his body radiating heat and sweat.

A hand gently pushes him down, and it isn’t very hard for them to manage it. A voice tells him gently, “Just a nightmare, da’len. Sleep and let your body recover. The mark is stable, but it left you weak.”

“No.” Sahren protests, not really aware of who he was even talking to. He might have thought it was the Keeper if they didn’t sound male. “I don’t-” He coughed. “-don’t want to watch them die again. Please.”

“No one has died. You need rest to break the fever.” The voice responds, sounding perplexed but insistent. He feels the person place a hand on his forehead, and blissfully cold magic comes over him in a wave. 

“They did,” Sahren whispers, trying to fight off the heaviness starting to grab hold of him again, and continues, frantic, “they were killed, right in front of me. I didn’t stop it, even though I was there.” He couldn’t fight it as his eyes slid closed, a whine in his throat. “They died because of me. I don’t want to fail them again..”

“Just sleep.” The voice replied after a pause, and Sahren couldn’t fight them anymore. He felt his consciousness slip out from underneath him.

__________________________

 

_ The wind whispers through the trees, carrying with it the smell of earth and elfroot. Someone’s fingers are gently running through his short and messy hair, slicking back the raven strands. A much longer lock of auburn tickles his nose and makes it twitch, earning a laugh from the owner of the lap he’s resting his head in. _

_ “You’re only ever this calm when I’m around, aren’t you?” Feladara asks, looking down at his lover. “Your hair is as soft as a raven’s feathers, and yet I’m the only one who knows that, because you peck anyone else who tries to touch you.” _

_ A snicker escapes Sahren, and he grins up at his lover’s face, and decides he likes the way the branches above of the tree they’re resting against looks like a crown for Feladara’s head, how they mirror the vallaslin on the healer’s face. “You’re the only one in the clan who hasn’t done something to piss me off, that’s why.” He responds, because that should have been obvious. _

_ Gently, he reaches out a hand, calloused already from Sahren’s excessive training with his bow. He brushes his thumb along the newly healed markings on his lover’s face, and remembers with a flutter of his heart that they are both adults now. They can love one another openly and his father can’t do anything to stop them. His voice is gentle as he asks, “Why do you compare me to a raven, Dara?” _

_ The healer smiles warmly down at him. “You’re fierce like a bird of prey, but skittish too, and you excessively pull your hair back out of your face when you’re stressed, like a raven preening it’s feathers.” He responded, a laugh escaping him. “You may have chosen Falon’din as your patron, but you take after his brother more.” _

_ “How am I like Dirthamen? I’m no good at keeping secrets.” Sahren asked, almost pouting at his lover and earning another laugh from the healer.  _

_ “You’d be Dirthamen’s third raven, and defeat Fear and Deceit with your wit.” Feladara responded, and Sahren snorted, finding the idea ridiculous. _

_ “You’re ridiculous.” Sahren retorted, pulling on auburn hair to drag the healer into a kiss, and with yet another laugh, Feladara let him. Sahren loves how much the healer laughs. _

_ Then, a voice echoes through the memory, breaking the sweet dream apart. _

_ “And like Dirthamen, Fear and Deceit will follow you endlessly, reminding you of the things you fear the most, and telling you lies you start to believe.” _

___________________________

 

His eyes snap open, only to squint at the sunlight illuminating the room.

As he wakes up, the fever and pain in his arm is gone, and so is the person that was with him before. But the rest of his body still aches like hell, though, so he’s in no rush to force himself up.

Turning his head, he takes a quick survey of his surroundings and is surprised to realize he is in a cabin rather than a cell. Both him and the servant start when they notice each other, and Sahren flinches at the crash that follows when said servant drops the crate they’re holding.

“Y-You’re awake!” The servant stammers, looking terrified. Why would an elf be afraid of an elf?

“So you noticed,” Sahren replied dryly in his trademark deadpan, forcing himself into a sitting position. “What happened while I was out?”

“I didn’t know you were awake, I swear!” The servant blabbered on, to his frustration. 

With a dismissive wave, Sahren added, “What’s done is done. Why are you so afraid of me? I’m not a shem.”

Instead of being placated by his dismissal, the servant literally went to their knees, forehead pressed to the floor, submissive. “I beg for your forgiveness, and your blessing. I am but a humble servant.”

“Creators,” Sahren gasped, rather unnerved by the sudden formality and the way the younger elf stared at him with an expression that screamed  _ worship. _ Intensely, he wanted them to  _ stop. _

They continued on, his distress going unnoticed as they added in a rush, “You are in Haven, my lord. They say you saved us. The Breach stopped growing, just like the mark on your hand.”

The mark flashed as if acknowledging it’s mention, but this time it didn’t hurt and he ignored the glow, using that same hand to tug at his unruly hair. The servant looked up at him and Sahren felt their gaze, but was unable to return it. “It’s all they’ve been talking about for the last three days!”

_ So they’re happy with me?  _ He thought, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion and frustration, and he stared at the wall so hard he could have bored holes into the wood. “They’re not still clamoring for my execution?” 

“Maker, no!” The servant shouted, hurting his ears. “They’re calling you the Herald of Andraste now, my lord.” Sahren heard the younger elf scramble to their feet. “Lady Cassandra would like to know you’re awake. She said if you were that she wanted you at the Chantry, at once. At once is what she said.”

A headache was forming much to his frustration, as he struggled to wrap his head around all this new information. It was making him irritable and he couldn’t resist the growl that escaped him as he finally snapped, “Then go on and tell her then, but the “Herald” is going to show up when he feels like it.”

“Yes!” The servant replied hastily, and Sahren never felt more relief than when he heard the door slam closed, leaving him finally alone to breathe.

“Dread Wolf take them.” He cursed under his breath, and reluctantly slid out of bed, ignoring the protests of his aching body. “Damn dwarf. Fucking shems. Elves too. Dread Wolf take them all.”  _ I preferred it when they wanted to execute me instead. _

The fireplace brought a nice touch to the room, and helped keep the blasted cold out, at least. Though when he looked down and saw the  _ thing  _ they had put him in, Sahren groaned in frustration, and dragged his hand down his face.  _ There’s no way in hell I’m leaving this room while wearing this. They can wait a little longer.  _ He wished they’d left him a mirror, at least. Then he could check the bruising, and maybe getting out of his clothes wouldn’t be such a painful chore.

At least the grey shirt for all it’s tackiness had buttons, so it was easy to slide it off and toss it haphazardly onto the bed. His arms were bandaged underneath, both from wrist to elbow. Running a thumb along the linen, he remembered the splintering bow and winced at the memory.  _ Shit’s definitely scarring underneath.  _

Though unlikely to be missing anything important, Sahren ran his fingers along his now bare chest and ribcage, and while there were definitely some bruising all over, nothing was broken by this point and despite being bedridden for a few days his muscle hadn’t deteriorated. He was still relatively the same lean-muscled, pale as fuck and tall like a beanpole elf that was Sahren from Clan Lavellan. The Fade and the explosion hadn’t mutated him or anything, but then again he had no mirror to check visually.

Still, he let a sigh of relief escape him. At least Sahren was still himself, not including the mark. Self-check finished, he rummaged through the drawer next to the bedside for something else to wear and was happy to discover that some armor had been left for him, and even better, as he pulled it out he realized it was black leather. “Thank the Creators,” He announced to an empty room, “at least someone in this frozen village has halfway decent taste in clothing.”

Once all the straps, belts, and other necessary things were in place, he did a quick search of the room for anything valuable, trying to ignore the little voice in his head telling him he was stalling. Surprisingly, he found that Cassandra had returned his weapons, and snatched them up gleefully.

_ I’d been joking about calling my bow Alas’nira, but I’m glad I did.  _ Never had Sahren been happier to see weapons of Dalish make. He set the bow upon his back and ran his fingers along the hilt of one of his daggers, marveling at their return, and admiring the craftsmanship yet again. One was plain ironbark, painted black with markings grooved into it, resembling his  _ vallaslin _ . It was a bit worn for wear, but the other, the one he was so lovingly touching, was instead wrapped in black drakeskin, with white markings mimicking the grooves on the other. 

The silver gleamed briefly in the sunlight shining into the cabin, before Sahren sheathed them in their proper places at his waist.

He briefly let out a sharp exhale, and slicked his hair back out of his face before reluctantly pulling open the door, ready to face the next batch of crazy.


End file.
